MAY 25, 2025: We woke up to the sound of pouring rain and a sky thick with clouds.
After breakfast, we packed up and checked out, making our way north to the town of Horsens, located on the eastern coast of the Jutland Peninsula. With a population of about 60,000, it is among Denmark’s larger cities.
Our first stop was Farvergade 6, once the site of Horsens’ synagogue. Built in 1867, the synagogue was funded and initiated by Isaac Zacharias Levy, a prominent Jewish merchant and civic leader. Until then, Jewish services in Horsens took place only in private homes. The Levy family purchased the land and commissioned architect J.C. Clausen to design a house of worship for the city’s small Jewish community.
As the Jewish population dwindled in the late 1890s, it became impossible to sustain a congregation. In accordance with the original deed, in 1898, the building was gifted to the Horsens town council and repurposed as Den Levyske Stiftelse (The Levy Foundation). The building was converted into apartments to provide free housing for local residents, on the condition that the municipality maintain the Jewish cemetery—where Isaac Levy himself is buried. The former synagogue still stands as residential building today, with the Levy Foundation name over the entranceway.
We continued to the Jewish cemetery, expecting it to be big—after all, the synagogue had been quite substantial. Instead, we found a large, well-maintained green lawn with a tree-covered pathway running through it. All the way at the end of the pathway, on the left was a small space, dotted with less than two-dozen graves dating from the late 1800’s.
On the right, there was a separate tombstone with three names – Issac Z Levy (died 1899), his wife Isabella (died 1903), and their unmarried son, Louise (died 1930).
Isaac Levy was more than just the philanthropist who built the synagogue—he was one of Horsens’ most influential figures. He was born in 1827 into one of Horsens’s merchant families and eventually became the sole owner of the biggest construction company in Jutland. He served as a member of the city council and held many other positions including chairmanship of the Horsens’ Trade Association, managing director of the Bank of Horsens, chairman of the telephone company, and more. He was a man who possessed great abilities as an economist which earned him the nickname “Horsen’s Financial Mayor”.
Horsens was originally supposed to be the furthest north in Denmark that we would go on this trip. It was raining hard now, and we decided that we would rather continue driving in the dry, warm car rather than wander on foot in the cold rain through Horsens. It was a 45-minute drive north to Aarhus, Denmark’s second-largest city, and so we headed there.
We knew that Aarhus once had a small, assimilated Jewish community, and sure enough, right in the city center, we found a small, gated Jewish cemetery. The gate was open, so we stepped inside. The headstones were few but well preserved, tucked away in Aarhus City Hall Park, near the municipal concert hall and the ARoS Art Museum. The cemetery was in use from 1829 to the beginning of the 20th century.
After visiting the cemetery in the rain, we headed to the ARoS Art Museum, and our first stop was to dry off and warm up in the museum café. A hot drink and a large chocolate chip cookie were very welcome. Recharged, we wandered into an exhibit called Picasso, Miró, Léger and the Many Voices of Modernism. Here we unexpectedly found two Jewish connections.
Most of the artworks featured in this exhibit were from the collection of Roger Dutilleul. From a movie that was part of the show, we learned that Dutilleul, in the early 1900’s, as a young art collector, wanted to buy a Monet, but could not afford one. Instead, he turned to acquiring less-expensive emerging artists, and bought from Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, a Jewish art dealer with a sharp eye for new talent. Kahnweiler is best known for recognizing and supporting groundbreaking artists like Pablo Picasso and Fernand Léger at a time when their radical styles were largely rejected by the mainstream.
That’s how works by Picasso and Léger ended up in Dutilleul’s collection. Another artist that Dutilleul became enamored with was Amedeo Modigliani. Modigliani, a Jewish artist, died of tuberculosis at just 35. The day after his death, his grief-stricken wife took her own life, leaving behind a young child. That child was raised by her grandparents—and later dedicated her life to sharing her father’s legacy with the world.
After this impressive exhibit, we took the elevator up to the 10th floor to walk through ARoS’s famous rooftop ring, known as Your Rainbow Panorama. Installed in 2011, this 150-meter-long circular skywalk offers panoramic views of Aarhus through glass panels in all colors of the spectrum.
Next was lunch consisting of pumpkin soup and spinach waffles in the museum restaurant. Like in most places we ate at in Denmark, the emphasis here was on green cuisine using ingredients from local producers.
It was now mid-afternoon, and we still had a long ride ahead of us. It was time to head towards Odense, an almost two-hour drive south.
Odense, the hometown of Hans Christian Andersen, greeted us with a heavy rain. The historic downtown was charming: cobbled pedestrian streets with colorful half-timbered houses. Our hotel was in the middle of this enchanting central area.
As darkness fell, the skies began to clear. We crossed the street for dinner at Grønttorvet, a classic Danish eatery. The history of Restaurant Grønttorvet goes back over 250 years. Vegetarian options were limited, but the artichoke salad and mushroom tart were both surprisingly good.
It had been a full day, and we went to sleep looking forward to seeing more of Odense tomorrow.